


Get There Eventually

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Identity Porn, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Romance, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: Spider-Man was Peter Parker.  Or maybe it was more accurate to say Peter Parker was Spider-Man.  It was obvious, not least because the kid kept changing in alleyways.  He had a secret identity, but he didn't exactly try that hard to hide it.





	Get There Eventually

**Author's Note:**

  * For [duckmoles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckmoles/gifts).



> Recip, I hope you enjoy this extra gift for MCUex!
> 
> This is canon divergent in two ways: Tony didn't recruit Peter for CW, and Thanos mysteriously disappeared with his entire army in 2014. So mysterious. Also, definitely not appearing in this fic.
> 
> Redating for reveals. Sorry if you manage to see this twice! (More likely for this one, as I slid it in barely under the wire.)
> 
> I tried to cover the general warnings in the freeform tags, but please see the end notes if you'd like additional ones. As always, feel free to ask me if you have any questions or special concerns.
> 
> For my personal notes: OPD: 7/6. OAD: 7/6.

Spider-Man was Peter Parker. Or maybe it was more accurate to say Peter Parker was Spider-Man. It was obvious, not least because the kid kept changing in alleyways. He had a secret identity, but he didn't exactly try that hard to hide it.

Tony did his best to delete or bury every video out there of Peter unmasking on camera, but the fact remained that someone had to take them in the first place, and a significant number of people watched them in the few seconds they stayed up before his algorithm found them and brought them back down. (In a complete coincidence, S.I.'s facial recognition software had improved by leaps and bounds over the years since Spider-Man had appeared on the scene.) But there was no deleting people's memories, especially not Tony's.

Tony had told himself he wasn't going to get involved beyond helping keep the kid's identity as under wraps as he could, which was just Tony providing a public service, not real, actual involvement. He was done with the superhero team thing. He'd had fun, but he wasn't a team player. Fury had been right the first time. It wasn't lingering bitterness over how things had played out with Sokovia, with Rogers and Barnes, or with the Accords. Trying to play well with others just wasn't for Tony. His original horrible prediction of impending doom had failed to pan out, so Tony wasn't _needed_ for a superhero team.

Which was why he was in his personal lab, focused on S.I. and not getting involved, when a superhero showed up in Tony's non-superhero life anyway.

Tony had seen the name pop up for intern applications in R&D and maybe nudged it up the pile, but that was it. He'd expected Peter to stick to the background, maybe get caught on some S.I. cameras doing Spider-Man-y things Tony's new, identity protection A.I. would have to take care of, but not actually be something Tony had to pay attention to.

Tony kind of had to pay attention to this.

"I don't need a personal intern," Tony said.

"You're the one who was talking about finding a successor," Pepper said patiently. "And you're also the one who earmarked him for a paid position despite being a college student. It's obvious you have your eye on him. I don't understand what the problem is."

"Fine, maybe I'll take a personal intern, but not this one." Tony swiped Peter's file away. "There has to be a better—ooo, what about—oh, wow, never mind. _That's_ a design flaw. Or—" Tony flitted through several files and despaired of the next generation almost as much as he despaired of the ones preceding it. "—this one, it looks very—okay, terrible, this is terrible, who hired this guy?" Tony rejected potential interns as quickly as he laid eyes on them. "What about—hm."

"What's wrong with Peter Parker?" Pepper asked.

"Maybe he's a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen, and I'm just trying to be proactive and get out ahead of it." There. A perfectly reasonable argument that had nothing to do with superheros.

"Really," Pepper said.

"He's very handsome," Tony insisted, pulling the file back up and turning the tablet to show Pepper the application photo in case she'd forgotten what Peter looked like. "Look at those biceps."

"You can't see them through the suit jacket," Pepper said. She wasn't looking at the screen, so what did she know?

"But I know they're there." Tony put the tablet down on the workstation. He looked down at the picture of the cheap suit covering said biceps almost wistfully. "Hiding."

"Tony." Pepper picked up the tablet. "I need you to be honest with me. Did you already sleep with him?"

"What? No." Tony was startled into honesty instead of taking the out. "Haven't even met the kid."

"Then you have no idea what he looks like under all that, and you can go on not knowing while he works for you. You'll be fine." Pepper really wasn't budging here.

Maybe Tony should have led with Peter's lips and the enticing way they looked wrapped around street food, though that brought Pepper and Tony right back to the question of how Tony could possibly know. While it might have helped get Pepper on board with keeping the kid away from him, Tony wasn't planning to share the damning fact that—on a lonely night, when he was drunk enough to embrace being a terrible person—he had recently imagined how those lips would look wrapped around his dick instead. Not that Tony's unfortunate and ever growing attraction was why he was trying to reject Peter for the position, but it was the sort of reason Pepper could appreciate.

"What if I told you I would absolutely try to sleep with him?" Tony tried.

"You've never abused your position for sex," Pepper said with all the confidence of someone who'd worked for Tony and dated him without it being weird, "and I don't think you'll start now."

"You have too much faith in me," Tony said.

"I have exactly the right amount of faith in you." Pepper took the tablet with her as she went for the door. "Which is why Mr. Parker is waiting in the hall. I'll tell him he got the personal internship."

Shit. Spider-Man had super hearing, didn't he? Tony was pretty sure he did. When Pepper opened the door, she revealed Peter standing patiently against the opposite wall. He had the faintest flush and a huge grin on his face.

"Right. Fine. Get in here." Tony pulled up a project on the holographic display that even the dimmest bulb in R&D wouldn't fail to grasp. Peter bounced in with all the energy of a labrador retriever. "Tell me what you make of this."

Pepper let herself out, closing the door behind her.

"Oh, wow, is that the new drone design? It's so small! I really love the way you've integrated the repulsor tech with the—" Peter launched into his observations and proved in the process that he was actually very bright. When he wound down, voice going quiet as he realized Tony hadn't said a single word in the space of the several minutes Peter had spent talking and Tony had spent observing him, Peter asked, "Am I—is that not what you wanted to hear? Am I not getting the spot after all?"

"It's not about what I want to hear, it's about what you think," Tony said. He shut the projector down. "And no, kid."

Peter deflated. Tony smiled.

"No, you're not-not getting the spot. Congratulations. I'm a terrible teacher and a worse boss, but I'm all yours." Tony regretted his word choice immediately, but kept going. "I expect you bright and early every morning until your classes start again. And if you're still around by then and I haven't scared you off, I'll expect you on the weekends."

Peter straightened. His shoulders went back. He got an adorable little determined face. "I won't let you down, sir."

"I know you won't," Tony said. He stood. "We'll start tomorrow."

Tony was going to regret this. He knew he was going to regret this. Like so many of his regrets, he wasn't going to let that stop him.

—

Never let it be said that when Tony did something he half-assed it. Peter Parker was going to be his personal intern. Might as well go all in. Tony spent half the night up getting everything ready. When Peter showed up twenty minutes early with the sort of messy hair that indicated he'd swung in instead of taking the train, Tony was on his second espresso, trying to make up the sleep deficit with caffeine. Tony showed Peter around the lab, made sure he was familiar with safety protocols, showed off a few personal projects, and ended their tour in front of one of Tony's new crown jewels.

"Is this the nanotech used for the Bleeding Edge suit?" Peter asked in an awed voice as they stood in front of one of the nanobot displays. So Peter was an Iron Man groupie. Of course he was.

"Yep." Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. "It has other applications, too, but that's where it made its debut."

"That is so cool." Peter held his hand out like he was going to touch, but didn't connect—just let it hover over the clear window showing the nanobots swirling in a neutral state beneath.

"Glad you think so." Tony dipped his chin at the container. "That one's all yours."

Peter jerked his hand back. "I—what? Really?" Somehow, his face actually could hold more enthusiasm. "I get to play with this?"

Tony laughed. "Work. You get to work with that."

"This is the greatest job ever," Peter said.

Something in Tony's chest felt weird, all warm and bubbly. Probably he'd had too much espresso.

"What do you want me to do with it?" Peter asked, fingers hovering over the controls. "How does it work? Does it have to stay in this lab, or can I take it down to my workstation?"

"Whatever you want. It's your project now." Tony held his hand up and ticked the answers off one by one on his fingers. "Controls are meant to be intuitive, but I'll show you in a sec. And it doesn't have to stay in the lab, but your workstation's here now. Personal intern gets access to my personal lab."

Peter's pretty brown eyes went wide. "That's a lot, Mr. Stark."

Tony put his hand on Peter's shoulder and squeezed. "Trust me, we're just getting started."

—

Peter slotted in pretty easily, actually. Tony showed him the nanotech controls, threw him a few extra side projects if he got bored, and said, "Let me know if you have any questions."

Tony buried himself in one of his own projects. Sometime later, Peter said, "Mr. Stark, I have a question."

When Tony looked over, Peter had his hand up like this was elementary school and Peter wanted permission to use the bathroom. He had a nervous energy about him.

"Hit me with it," Tony said, shaking off the design fugue.

"Do we, uh—do we get a lunch break?" Oh. Tony wasn't that far off really.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., what time is it?" Tony had told her to clear his schedule for getting Peter settled in, and apparently that included his gentle reminders when he got too involved with something. It didn't happen _that_ often, but apparently Peter was a calming presence that improved focus instead of the disruption Tony had expected. Now that he was paying attention, Tony realized he was famished.

"It's 2:53 p.m.," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

Right. First full day, and Tony had starved the intern. Tony clapped his hands together, and his display blinked off.

"Yes, we get a lunch break. Next time I get distracted, feel free to nudge me sooner." Tony stood and dug his knuckles into the small of his back. "I'm thinking—sushi. How do you feel about sushi? We can order a few of everything."

"I like sushi," Peter said cautiously, "but I brought a bag lunch. I left it in my locker downstairs."

"Okay, first of all, no. You're my intern, so I'm feeding you. Unless you don't want what I'm getting, in which case you can have F.R.I.D.A.Y. feed you. If you tell her what you like, she'll order for you." Tony walked over to Peter's workstation and shut everything down there, too. "Second, you, me, and Pepper Potts are the only ones who have access to this lab. Keep your stuff up here. I promise Pep won't steal your PB&J."

"Really, Mr. Stark, that's okay—"

"Yes, it is okay. I can add a locker up here if you really want one that bad, but the one downstairs can go to someone who actually needs it." Tony had a private break room on this floor stocked with snacks and drinks, with a real table to sit at. He put a hand to the back of Peter's neck and chivvied him out the door.

"If you're sure," Peter said.

"I'm sure," Tony said firmly. And okay, he wasn't getting involved in _Spider-Man's_ life, but this was Peter Parker, personal intern. There was nothing wrong with Tony saying, "So tell me about yourself, Peter Parker. What do you like to do when you're not in class or working? Special hobbies? Fitness programs?"

"I, uh. I like old movies?" Peter said.

"What, like King Kong, Casablanca, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea?" Tony asked as they walked down the hall.

"I was thinking more like Aliens," Peter said.

Tony stopped walking. "I've changed my mind. You can eat the bag lunch."

—

Tony fed him. Of course Tony fed him. Watching food go in that mouth was even worse in person than on grainy cell phone footage.

Worst of all was when Peter retrieved his bagged lunch and insisted on splitting it, determined to contribute. Potato chips didn't really go with roe, but Tony had some anyway.

This kid was killing him.

—

It was terrible how easily and how well Peter fit into Tony's life. He was whip smart. He had a mouth on him when he wasn't focused on being respectful and keeping his dream job, and Tony liked that in a person. Once Peter got settled in, he wasn't afraid to push back.

The first time he corrected Tony on something, he shrunk in on himself, with an expression like, _Oh, shit, you forgot not to piss off your boss_. When Tony grinned and incorporated it into his work, Peter had slowly straightened, come back out of his shell a little. Once he got his feet under him, he really bloomed.

"Why don't you use this for more?" Peter asked a few weeks in. He gestured at his nanobot case. "It can do so much."

"Do you know how much a cubic inch of that stuff costs?" Tony asked. He lowballed it when he said, "Millions of dollars. It's not cost effective. Whatever that can do, something else can cover it cheaper and easier."

Peter swallowed. "There's, uh, there's a lot more than a cubic inch in here."

"There is," Tony agreed.

"You let me take this home," Peter said.

"I do," Tony agreed.

"Wow," Peter said. Then, "You must really like me."

Tony rubbed at the smile that kept trying to form on his face. "I guess you're alright."

"Um. You know you don't have to—" Peter cut off.

"I don't have to do anything," Tony said. "I'm a man who controls his own fate. Trust me. If I do something, it's because I choose to."

"I'm getting that." Peter ducked his head. He wasn't fighting his own smile. "But I'm just saying. It's a lot, and it doesn't need to be."

Oh. Oh, no.

"I liked you before I got this job." Peter tapped in another command on the interface. "So you don't need to buy my, my affection or admiration. I'm a sure thing."

"I don't sleep with interns," Tony blurted out.

"Uh, I'm not—" Peter straightened up. That expression on his face was a little bit disappointment, but it was mostly buried under the confusion. "I don't expect you to? I just meant, you know—" Peter waved a hand. "—the boss and mentor thing. You don't have to buy me off to make me stay."

Oh, great. Tony really was a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen here.

"Right," Tony said awkwardly. "Just so we're on the same page."

"Sometimes I'm not sure we're reading the same book," Peter said. He took immediate and obvious pity on Tony and changed the subject. "So I had this idea and I wanted to run it by you first—"

Tony somehow made it through the next five minutes. He made it through the day. He went home and called Rhodey, who could always be relied upon to provide a reality check.

"I want to sleep with my intern," Tony said as an opening.

"Pepper said you'd gotten over looking for excuses to get rid of him," Rhodey said. "What's changed?"

"I want to sleep with my intern," Tony repeated. "Keep up."

"Pretty sure that was your starting state," Rhodey said.

"Yeah," Tony said mournfully. "Why did Pepper let me hire him?"

"Because he's brilliant and your top pick for shaping into head of R&D when you eventually retire." Rhodey was matter-of-fact about it. "You're not getting any younger."

"Which is exactly why I shouldn't sleep with him." Tony had pulled out the bourbon, but hadn't poured any yet. "He's still in school. He's not even old enough to drink. I tried to offer him wine once, after we worked through dinner and I took him out as an apology, and do you know what he told me?"

"What did he tell you?" Rhodey dutifully asked.

"He told me no thank you!" Tony dropped a couple ice cubes in a glass. "He was so polite about it. He's so sweet sometimes. It's unnatural. Aren't young adults this day and age supposed to be uncouth, irresponsible, and ungrateful?"

"So the problem isn't that you want to sleep with him. It's that you're worried you actually like him."

"I already knew I liked him," Tony said. He tapped a finger against the glass.

"Still not seeing what's changed here."

"He likes me, too," Tony said like a confession.

"So nothing's changed. You're just having your annual freakout ahead of schedule this year."

"He _knows_ I like him." Tony put the bourbon back in the wet bar and grabbed some sparkling water instead. He poured it with a heavy hand. "And I told him I don't sleep with interns."

Rhodey was quiet a moment, like he was picking his words carefully. "He likes the job?"

"He loves the job," Tony said and knocked back half the sparkling water like it was cheap whiskey.

"Then keep it in your pants. You're great, but not that great."

"Thanks," Tony said, heavy on the sarcasm.

Rhodey ignored the interjection. "He's probably not so smitten that he'll quit on the off chance that's the only barrier there." Rhodey was kinder when he said, "From everything you've told me, I don't think you're going to scare this one off."

"Thanks," Tony said a little more sincerely.

"And if you sleep with him anyway, be clear you're not firing him _before_ the clothes come off," Rhodey said.

"You're really helpful," Tony said.

"I really am," Rhodey agreed.

He really, really was. Tony put down the glass.

—

Tony started taking walks. He always let F.R.I.D.A.Y. pick the destination. He was neither stalking anyone nor being stalked. Sometimes he saw Spider-Man off in the distance, but Tony didn't try to make sure their paths crossed, and Spider-Man never actually approached.

Tony liked the new suit. It looked good on him. It was a little shinier than the old one. Peter hadn't figured out how to cut the metallic effect yet. He'd get there eventually.

Tony tapped at the nanotech casing he carried with him. Not in the right way to activate it, just a gentle drum of the fingers. He hadn't needed to use it for years. It was like a high tech security blanket that was also an albatross around his neck. The last time there'd been a sufficient threat to call all the old crowd in, it had been taken care of before Tony could finish crossing the ocean.

"Do a flip!" someone called in the distance.

Tony shook his head, grinning to himself, and turned the next corner. There was a park this way, and Tony could use a little more green in his life.

—

"You've been logging a lot of after hours lab time," Tony said carefully. He needed to approach this from an angle that would hit the part he wanted to address and would never actually reach anything he wanted to avoid.

Peter froze for an instant, then carried on with taking apart the small apparatus he was working on. "I guess? There are a lot of interesting projects."

"There are," Tony agreed. "I just want to be sure you're balancing everything okay. The lab's open to you anytime, and I've certainly pulled my share of all-nighters over the years, but even twenty year olds need to sleep sometime."

"It's the summer." Peter's fingers deftly pried the case open. "It's not like I have much else going on."

"Right." And it wasn't like Tony had much room to talk about taking time for friends. "Well, if you ever need a day off or anything, let me know."

Peter smiled. "I'll do that."

And Peter did. When there was a whole thing with a competitor to S.I. going off the rails and dosing himself with something that turned him Hulk green, then started a firefight with the police in Central Park, Peter said, "Hey, I just remembered I have a, um—thing. Can I take a personal day?"

"Take the week," Tony said, because it was Thursday. Maybe Peter would take some downtime after a villain fight for once, let himself recover a little before coming back in.

Tony watched Peter hurry out the door. He turned left instead of right, headed toward the windows instead of the elevator doors. Tony sighed. Part of him wanted to follow the kid. The rest of him? His head wasn't in the right space. Hadn't been for years. (If he'd left right away, he'd have been in time for that last battle instead of over open ocean.) What was the point of armor he couldn't wear? Tony rubbed his eyes. Peter had this. It was fine. If Peter really ran into trouble, Tony could always activate the drone system he had in place in case of another alien invasion.

"Keep me updated, F.R.I." Tony turned back to what he'd been doing. He had a new device he was developing for S.I.'s clean water initiative. Here was some good Tony could actually _do_.

—

Tony realized too late that Peter had left the nanotech casing. Of course he wasn't going to cart it off directly in front of his boss. Peter was sloppy about his secret identity, but he wasn't stupid. He may have been willing to work on it in the after hours and wear it out in front of all and sundry, but apparently he would only try to stretch plausible deniability so far.

"Shit." Tony should have said they'd both take the day and insisted he'd head out before Peter. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., what's Peter wearing?"

"Mr. Parker is currently sporting the emergency hoodie suit he was carrying in his backpack."

Of course he was. "I don't suppose that picked up some bulletproof padding somewhere along the way?"

"It's composed primarily of cotton and nylon," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

Tony's hands were shaking. He'd never be able to get the activation sequence right like this.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., suit me." The nanotech crawled out from the casing like water closing over and around him. He took a deep breath, and then it was over his head. His voice was only a little wobbly when he said, "Like riding a bike. Set me a course for Central Park. Autopilot it."

Tony got there just in time to deflect some stray bullets from hitting a young woman sheltered behind a park bench. He'd love to say he was actual help here, but the truth was it was all F.R.I.D.A.Y. Tony was along for the ride. He probably could've done this from the safety of the lab.

"Anyone actually dead?" Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y.

"The bombs used thus far have been nonlethal. There are over two dozen injured, but if they receive prompt medical attention, they should all recover."

"Match that, then. Nonlethal only. Prioritize protecting Spider-Man and civilians over taking out the Green Goblin, but if the chance comes, take it."

Tony provided a nice, big shiny target for the villain and played the distraction to a hilt. Apparently Osborn couldn't resist trying to work out some of his corporate aggression along with whatever personal issues had caused him to attack the park in broad daylight. Spider-Man actually took him down. When he was all wrapped up in webbing, Tony took control of the suit just long enough to give a little salute.

"Nice work, kid," Tony said. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., take me home."

F.R.I.D.A.Y. dropped him off on the balcony, and Tony made it all the way inside before he collapsed, covered in a cold sweat and body trying to shake its way apart.

—

He woke up the next morning feeling like he had a hangover. In a way, he did.

Peter wasn't supposed to be in today. All of Tony's S.I. work was ahead of schedule. He didn't have anywhere he _had_ to be today.

Tony rolled over and went back to sleep.

—

He got up to use the en suite a couple times. He went back to bed after.

He was just _so tired_.

—

"Colonel Rhodes is requesting access," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said Saturday morning.

"Let him up," Tony said. He stared at the ceiling until Rhodey let himself in the bedroom, then switched his gaze to assess Rhodey's gait, make sure he didn't need any maintenance.

"You haven't been answering my calls," Rhodey said. It was carefully unaccusing. Oh, yeah, he'd definitely seen the park footage.

"I haven't been answering any calls."

Rhodey came and sat on the side of the bed. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Tony ran a hand through his hair. Ugh. It needed washing.

"Want to have a beer and not talk about it?"

Tony made himself sit up. With obviously false scandal, Tony said, "Are you encouraging day drinking here? With _me_? Do I look like that sort of man?"

"You can say no." Rhodey had a half-smile that said he knew Tony wasn't going to say no.

"Let's not be hasty. I could _at least_ go for not talking about it."

They didn't have the beer. Tony didn't keep any on hand anymore. There was harder stuff available, but they stuck to water—Rhodey—and juice—Tony, who needed the sugar after not eating for a full day. They sat at the breakfast bar while Tony considered if he wanted to contemplate eating. He thought about thinking about it, at least.

"So the new guy," Rhodey said in something that came dangerously close to talking about it. "You must really like him."

"He's been around for six years," Tony pointed out, pouring himself a second helping of O.J. "Don't think he counts as new anymore."

"Mm." Rhodey picked at the peeling label on his water bottle. "Couldn't help but notice he's wearing a pretty familiar costume most days."

"Shouldn't be that familiar. He designed that thing himself." Personally, Tony would have added a glint of gold, maybe a slightly deeper red.

"And I'm sure you have no idea where he picked up the material."

"How could I possibly know that?" Fuck it, Tony would have toast. Toast couldn't be that bad. … Or maybe it could. Toast sounded horrible, actually.

"And how's that new intern of yours doing?" Rhodey asked.

"He has the day off," Tony said shortly. "It's the weekend."

"Yeah, that's about what I thought." Rhodey sighed. He tilted his head as he considered Tony. "As long as I've known you, you've always run headfirst at everything, no matter how much damage it's done you." He put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "But sometimes—sometimes you've gotta heal a little before you can get back up again."

"So you think I'm not taking it slow enough," Tony said disbelievingly.

"No." Rhodey smiled. "I'm saying I'm glad to see you're starting to heal."

"You literally just dragged me out of bed," Tony said, because he was contrary and it wasn't like he was the picture of perfect mental health here, sitting in underwear he'd been wearing for three days straight, trying to figure out if he could keep down solid food.

"It's not a straightforward process." Rhodey squeezed Tony's shoulder. "You'll get there."

—

Tony did better with a crisis, a star to steer by and rail against. He didn't do so well when he wasn't needed. He had no doubt that if an alien army showed up in the next day, week, year—decade, even—he'd be able to put the suit on and go out giant energy cannons blazing. He was ready for that. It was the smaller stuff he had trouble with.

He was a big picture kind of guy. The whole forest, not the minor villainous trees. In the weeds, he got lost.

It had been half a decade, but Tony was still lost.

—

"How are you feeling?" Peter asked on Monday, bright and early, eager as ever.

"Great. Took a long weekend myself." Tony smiled from behind sunglasses he hoped hid the bags under his eyes. "Just what I needed to rejuvenate myself. Great suggestion, Mr. Parker."

"And you, uh—" Whatever Peter saw on Tony's face, it caused him to redirect. "—did you want to see the work I did on the new filters? I came in on Sunday and made some notes."

"Sounds great." It did. Everything was great. Great, great, great.

"Or, well, we could also—"

"Show me the filters," Tony said.

Peter showed him the filters. His work was good. It always was.

—

Tony didn't talk about things, not anymore, but there was one thing he didn't talk about more than anything else.

There was this moment. This terribly peaceful moment when he was lying there, looking up at the stone ceiling of the outdoor walkway. The cold cut at his exposed face almost as painfully as the actual cuts and abrasions. The air burned in his lungs. His muscles ached with exertion and damage done in the process of fighting for someone else's life (fighting to take it). The berserker rage had run out. He was empty.

Moisture had frozen on his eyelashes. His lips were dry where they weren't bloody or actively bleeding. He could taste blood in his mouth. It lingered at the back of his throat no matter how many times he swallowed.

The arc reactor was broken. Even F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice had gone quiet in his ear. He had a back-up power source, and maybe it wouldn't get the armor going, but he could at least call in a ride.

But he didn't have to.

It was an awful, wonderful thought, tremendously tempting. There was no one waiting for him. No one knew he was gone and no one expected him back. Tony didn't have to go back. He could just stay there, cold and alone. He was so cold, lethargy stealing over his thoughts and bringing with it gracious quiet. He was so grateful to be alone. He wanted to stay there forever, perched on a ledge, never tipping one way or the other.

It was only a moment. He got up. He got the armor off. He got the back-up power going and got F.R.I.D.A.Y. to send him a ride home.

It was only a moment—but it stuck with him.

—

Tony shook off a dream-memory of Siberia's cold embrace. It wasn't a nightmare, not exactly, but it didn't go easily, stuck like cobwebs. Tony got up. He faced the day.

—

"You start back at school next month," Tony said.

"Seven weeks from now, actually," Peter said.

That gave them a little extra time, but not enough. "Before you're reduced to just the weekends, I want to start you on a new project."

"What kind of project?" Peter drew closer.

Tony pointed at the file he had pulled up. "See this?"

"That looks a lot like Bleeding Edge," Peter said.

"That's because it is Bleeding Edge," Tony said. He made a gesture like he was picking the file up and tossed it to Peter's workstation. The file opened over there. "I expect you to familiarize yourself with it. Know it, learn it, love it. Figure out how to adapt it for yourself. I'll give you a few days on your own, then you can come to me with any questions."

Peter got a cagey expression on his face. "What would I need it for?"

"No one says you have you to use it. I'd prefer you not use it." Tony shrugged and looked at his empty display. "But there may be something in there that could be used for something else. The weapons systems are locked, but everything else is open to you."

"Mr. Stark—"

"No need to thank me for giving you the learning opportunity of a lifetime. It's all part of the service. Just don't sell it to any foreign powers—or domestic, for that matter—and we'll call it good."

Peter's eyes were piercing, but he didn't say anything else about it. Instead, he said, "It's nearly lunch. I brought barbeque potato chips and Honeycrisp apple slices today. Did you want to order anything?"

"How do you feel about Korean barbeque?" Tony asked.

"I love Korean barbeque," Peter said.

When the takeout came, Peter retrieved his contributions and, as they split the food between them, said with too much gratitude for what was a pretty average lunch, "Thank you."

Tony looked down at his beef barbeque and handful of chips and apple slices. He pressed his lips together. He shook his head. "Don't mention it."

—

Tony gave Peter three days, then said, "Okay, show me what you got. Explain how it works and why it's designed that way."

Peter's eyes went wide.

"You don't have to get it all right," Tony reassured him. "This is the drone design all over again. Just tell me what you think."

"Okay, um. Okay." Peter swallowed. He straightened. "Okay, so starting with the casing—"

It had only been three days, but Peter had picked up a lot. He really was brilliant. Tony wanted to keep him forever.

"The only thing I don't get," Peter said at the end, "is this group of presets." Peter pointed to the subdirectory Tony had spent the last several weeks tweaking, though it had been around for longer than that.

"What's giving you trouble?" Tony asked, though he thought he knew.

"These don't look like Iron Man designs. From form to function to—to basic aesthetic, they're all wrong." There was a question in Peter's face, but he wasn't outright asking it. Tony could appreciate that.

"They're not wrong, just different," Tony said. He reached over and flicked it open. "And there's a reason for that."

"They look like—they kind of look like they were made for Spider-Man," Peter said quietly.

"Well, if he wanted to use them, I certainly wouldn't object," Tony said. "It's unfortunate I don't have a way to contact him directly."

"What if—" Peter looked away. He couldn't seem to bring himself to go any further.

"If someone happened to know him and wanted to pass them on," Tony said gently, "I wouldn't object to that either." He exited out of the subdirectory, taking them back up the tree. More briskly, "So, any questions? Suggestions? Burning curiosity about anything else before I tell you what you got wrong and correct the record?"

—

"I appreciate your willingness to take on that intern," Pepper said, "but that doesn't get you out of board meetings."

"You're right." Tony smiled charmingly. Pepper seemed unmoved. Maybe she was charmed deep down. Deep, deep down. Or maybe she'd gotten that out of her system years ago. "Not showing up gets me out of board meetings."

"I gave you part of the summer to settle in. There's a meeting for that acquisition you wanted in Tokyo. You're going to be there. And you're going to be at the next board meeting."

"Fine." Tony tapped a finger against his chin. "I'll be there."

"Good." Pepper softened. "How are you?"

"I'm … fine. Perfectly fine. Do I not look fine?"

"You look good, actually." There it was, that kernel of fondness Pepper had never quite been able to stamp out, not in all her years as his assistant or his girlfriend or his CEO. Yeah, she still liked him. "We should've gotten you an intern years ago."

"I don't think anyone else would have been the same," Tony said.

"Maybe not." Pepper smiled. "I'll send F.R.I.D.A.Y. your itinerary. Happy will drive you to the airport."

—

Tony made some changes to the itinerary. When Peter showed up, Tony said, "Change in plans for next week. Do you have a passport? If not, we'll have to get you a passport."

"Why would I need a passport?" Peter asked, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder and to the floor.

"Well, I could sneak you in the country without one, but Japan's border authorities tend to frown on that sort of thing." Tony picked up Peter's backpack and pressed it to his chest. "We'll need to get you a new wardrobe, too. Chop, chop. Personal items either stay here or go with us, but we're not coming back today."

"Are we leaving right now?" Peter asked, alarm in his voice.

"The building? Yes. The country? Not until next week." While it would be funny to put Peter on a plane with no warning, they had the time, and Tony had some favors to cash in to make sure a certain friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's presence wouldn't be missed around his usual neighborhood. "Now, what do you know about how business is conducted in Japan?"

"Is it the same as however it's conducted in America?"

"Okay, so next to nothing. I can work with that." Tony slid his hand to the back of Peter's neck and pulled him along. "That's fine. No one's going to expect you to contribute yet."

"Oh, good." Peter's voice was light with relief. Then, "… 'Yet'?"

"Yet," Tony agreed. Obviously things would change a few years down the line. They were still in the learning period.

—

Tony made sure Peter brought the nanotech this time.

—

Peter saved a member of the Diet on live television while Tony was up late staring at all the drinks he wasn't having at the hotel bar. He put his head down on said bar and laughed and laughed.

This kid. This fucking kid.

At least he'd figured out how to reprogram the suit's coloration without immediate access to the lab and its tools. Still. Strong, sticky guy in all black with webbing and eight waldoes that popped out at the last possible second to latch them onto the side of the building? The lack of red and blue didn't matter.

Tony went up to his room. He wanted to be out of sight. If anyone asked, he planned to say Peter was up there with him. Yes, all night, and no, he didn't like their implications, nor was it anyone's business if he was fucking the intern.

Fortunately, no one asked.

—

(It was starting to be a thing, how much Tony wanted to fuck his intern. What was worse was all the other stuff Tony wanted to do to and for him. Sexual attraction was the least of it.)

—

When they were done with the business side of things, Tony took Peter around the city—Asakusa, Tokyo Tower, all the big tourist stuff. Peter was full of joy and wonder, and Tony lived vicariously through him.

"I'll have to bring you back next spring," Tony said, skipping over Ueno and the museums for this trip. "Come again when cherry blossom season is in full swing."

"Will you still—" Peter looked out the train window, because he'd insisted they take public transportation at least once. At least it wasn't rush hour. "Will the internship last that long?"

Huh. "In case it wasn't clear, the internship lasts until you're done with college."

"Oh. So … almost a year." Peter ducked his head. It was hard to tell if he was happier that it was going to last that long or more disappointed there was a firm end date in sight. There was a lot going on in his face, in his posture.

"Yep. Less than now." Oh, look, disappointment was winning. Tony smiled and put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "That's when you get to be a real boy with a real job and a real job offer. Let me know what any head hunters offer you. I guarantee S.I. will more than double it."

"Really?" Happiness took the lead, trashing the competition. "But, I mean—I haven't even—"

"You're worth it, trust me. Do you think I'd hand over the keys to the kingdom to any kid off the street?"

"I don't know, sir. You're pretty eccentric." Peter was grinning now. "You still haven't told me where we're going."

The train announced they were arriving at Akihabara.

"Actually," Tony bounced on his heels, sure this would be a hit, "we're here. You and your friend Ted—"

"Ned," Peter corrected with the easy amusement of someone who had told Tony his best friend's name twenty times now at least—and that continued amusement assured he'd need to at least twenty-one.

"—like games and geeky things, right? I thought you might enjoy picking up some souvenirs."

Peter didn't have the money to buy every shiny thing that caught his eye, or even most of them. That was okay. Tony was a billionaire, and Peter had a birthday coming up.

Peter caught Tony watching him. He looked away, smile grown smaller, more private.

Until he also caught Tony making a purchase or dozen on his behalf. "Mr. Stark, no."

"Maybe I want this—whatever this is—for myself. You don't know my life." It looked like some kind of robot action figure, but it couldn't so much as move its poorly articulated arms under its own power. Tony could make better. Maybe Tony should buy a second one and improve it.

"I don't even want it! I just wanted to take a picture to show Ned."

"And now you can show him in person." Tony took the little tray with his change and shoved the bag at Peter. "You'll have to give it back to me, though. This is a loan, because you didn't want it. It belongs to me now." Tony was the proud owner of a nonfunctional robot. It could live in the lab, make Dum-E feel better about himself. "What's next? Any video games that look better in the original Japanese?"

"I don't speak Japanese," Peter said.

"It's never too late to learn."

"Also, I'm pretty sure that's porn."

Tony looked at what he'd grabbed. That—yeah. Yep. That was probably porn. "No judgment. I'll get it if you want it."

" _You're the one who picked it up_." Peter was back to a full-fledged grin. It felt like he was laughing at Tony.

Just for that, this was definitely going in the birthday pile. Where were some more? That one looked like it might have tentacles.

"Mr. Stark, what are you—you can't just buy that!"

"Watch me."

—

Tony ended up with a lot of porn games and a bunch that honestly looked like it, but turned out to be boring regular old dating sims. They'd all needed their own region-locked game consoles, too. Whatever. He'd spent more money on worse causes than getting Peter to laugh. Maybe he'd play them someday in all his copious spare time.

—

Peter slept through most of the flight home. His head rested against the wall of the plane. All of the subtle lines of stress he carried with him during the day faded away. Peter carried a heavy weight on his shoulders in his waking hours. Tony loved Peter waking, but Tony wanted to be able to provide Peter with the sort of peace of mind he had while asleep. He deserved more than he had right now. He deserved better.

He also deserved better than Tony watching him sleep. This was creepy. Tony was a creep.

Tony closed his eyes and tried to get a little shut-eye of his own.

—

Time sped up, as it always seemed to when Tony was trying his hardest to hold on.

"I could come in weeknights, too," Peter offered when they addressed the rapid approach of the end of summer.

"Nope." Tony wasn't budging on this point. "Not gonna happen. I mean, yeah, sure, come in when you want. Do personal stuff. Enjoy a temperature controlled study space without other noisy, nosy college students or just a convenient place to nap. But you won't be working on any S.I. projects unless it's your official paid time over the weekend. If you let your last year of academics slide, I won't hesitate to cut your access to weekends or when I'm here to supervise."

"A convenient place to nap?" Peter said.

"There's a cot. It's comfortable." Tony shouldn't have to defend his life choices. They were discussing Peter's options here. "Look, visit, don't visit, but you're only working for me when I'm paying you."

"Only when you're paying me, huh?" Peter looked weirdly thoughtful about that. There was no need to overthink this. "Well, I still might come to visit … if that's okay with you?"

"I just said it was," Tony said with more patience than he was feeling. "Now that that's settled—"

"There _is_ something else," Peter said.

"Out with it, then." Tony made a gesture.

Peter scuffed his sneaker. "About the nanotech—"

"Already yours," Tony said, waving the question away before it could fully form.

"I mean, yeah, you let me take it home right now, but—"

"No, it's _yours_." Peter was staring again. "Hey, you wouldn't let me get you a birthday gift in Japan. Besides, it came with the internship."

"You got me a lot of things in Japan. And before it. This is—Mr. Stark, I can't—" Peter rolled to a stop. His eyes were wide, shining—disbelieving and hopeful at once. "Are you sure?"

Tony met Peter's gaze steadily, as serious as he could get. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

"I—okay, then. Cool." Peter looked at his personal casing, clearly overwhelmed. He repeated, dazed, "Cool."

Tony rubbed at his chest. "Anyway, now that that's settled, the water filtration project. Where are we on that?"

—

Tony kept at his walks. Some of them were at a better hour than others.

The metallic sheen of Spider-Man's costume had faded to something that looked a bit more like fabric. Peter didn't use the waldoes much, but he'd figured out how to add a gliding function. Tony suspected there were jet boots in there for emergencies, but he couldn't say for certain. Maybe the thicker heels on the boots were because Peter was feeling a little self-conscious about his height. Tony couldn't judge. He was several inches taller as Iron Man, and only part of that was required by function.

It couldn't be the secret identity thing. Peter didn't think that deeply about it. If he did, he wouldn't have decided to come to a stop in front of Tony, _wearing Tony's tech_ , and say, voice cheery, "Mr. Stark! How's it going?"

"It's going," Tony said.

"Any reason you're out this late?" Spider-Man asked.

"I didn't know I was up past my curfew, officer," Tony said. "I promise I've got a note from my dad around here somewhere."

"I just mean, you know," Spider-Man rocked back on his heels, oddly reminiscent of Tony himself about to ask a question in the lab, "is there any Iron Man business in the area tonight?"

It was late. Tony was tired. "Don't know if you've heard this, but Iron Man retired years ago."

"But you were there to take down Green Goblin!" Spider-Man said.

"No, _you_ were there to take down Green Goblin," Tony said. "I was just there."

"It was a team effort," Spider-Man said stubbornly.

"No I in team. By which I mean I'm not on any teams here. Just a guy who sometimes wears a suit for special occasions." Tony started walking again.

"Pretty special suit." Spider-Man paced him.

"My Tom Ford was at the dry cleaners."

"So it's not that it was a special occasion?" Spider-Man asked.

"That almost sounds like you're fishing for compliments."

"Maybe I am fishing for compliments," Spider-Man admitted cheerfully. "You could say, 'I met a very special man.' That's me, by the way."

"Are you even a man under there?" Tony said.

Spider-Man held a hand to his chest, just over the spider emblem. "Ouch. I can't tell if that's a shot at my age or my humanity there."

"Why not both? Who says you're not an underaged troll under there?" They were coming up on a crosswalk. It was practically deserted, but Tony waited anyway.

"I do. I promise. I am 100% legal and not a troll."

"Did I really need to know that?" Tony asked.

"I don't know. Did you?"

The pedestrian crossing stayed red. Tony sighed. "Are we really doing this? Are you really flirting with some washed up has-been at one in the morning on a school night? Don't you have better things to do with your time?"

"It's the summer, not a school night," Peter—Spider-Man— _Spider-Man_ said. "And I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing right now."

"You lack imagination."

"No." The light turned green. "You do. But that's okay. I think I can convince you."

"My imagination's in perfect working order." Tony was picturing all the ways this could go wrong right now, for instance, could see them all with crystal clear clarity.

Spider-Man cocked his head. "I think the convincing will have to wait for later. I've got a thing."

"Enjoy your thing," Tony said, crossing the street. "Maybe I'll see you later."

"It's a date!" Spider-Man chirped.

"Oh, yeah, this is going to go well."

In the distance, Spider-Man cried out, "It will!"

Tony didn't put his face in his hands, but only because he had a curb coming up. From here, he could go right or left. Knowing better, Tony took the left-hand turn.

—

Tony went back to the lab. There was always something there to work on. That was the excuse Peter had given the couple of times Tony had pressed him about it. Tony hadn't actually cared what he was doing. (Tony already knew.) He just wanted Peter to go to bed at a reasonable hour at least three days a week. It wasn't an unreasonable demand.

Around two in the morning, Peter came breezing in. His hair was a mess. His face was all sweaty; he still hadn't quite gotten the cooling element right, even cribbing off Tony's work. Like with the fabric, Tony was sure that he'd get there eventually. Peter looked like he'd either been doing the Spider-Man thing or had just had really, really enthusiastic sex. Tony tried not to focus on either the truth or the thought that yeah, this probably was what Peter would look like after a good, hard fucking.

Tony bit back the advice that Peter could at least pretend to use the elevator. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Uh, no, not so much. What are you doing here?"

"Don't know if you noticed this," Tony said like he was imparting a secret as he fiddled with the latest prototype F.R.I.D.A.Y. had fabricated for the water filter, "but I kind of own the building."

"But you're never here."

"Nice to know I've hallucinated all our various lab sessions. Must have been some other intern I hired."

"I mean you're never here _now_ ," Peter said awkwardly.

"And yet here I am now." Tony waved a hand down his body. "In the flesh and everything. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, no! No problem." Peter tilted his head. "It's just different. Not bad." More quietly, "Not bad at all."

"Good." Tony watched from the corner of his eye as Peter hooked his nanotech casing up to the recharge station. Tony didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. He just watched in silence something he usually only saw on the security feed and which he normally turned off before anything interesting happened. It wasn't like there was anything interesting going on right now, either. "Hey, have you eaten yet?"

"It's two a.m.," Peter said.

"You're right. Practically breakfast time." Tony stood and stretched. "I want eggs. Do you want anything? I have a full kitchen upstairs."

"You cook?" Peter asked with an insulting amount of surprise.

"Do I cook?" Tony asked. "Do I _cook_? Do _I_ cook?"

"I'm starting to think the answer is no."

"Just for that, I'm not sharing."

Except Tony did. He made eggs, which were decent enough, thank you, only a little mangled, and underdone toast. U had burned enough bread over the years—before Tony had given up the endeavor of training him to make the perfect breakfast sandwich, with not unwarranted suspicions that U was trying to start a fire so he could extinguish it—that Tony kept the settings on low even when he took care of it himself.

Tony brought down two plates and two forks. Peter had done whatever maintenance he needed to do on his suit while he had privacy. Tony dropped the plate with the nicer set of eggs by Peter's workstation, then pulled his own stool over to join him. Tony put together a nice egg sandwich. Dinner-breakfast of champions.

"So this," Peter waved a fork between them, "isn't paid time, right?"

"No overtime for personal projects," Tony agreed.

Peter got a weird little smile, entirely too pleased to be doing all this work for free. Then again, it wasn't like the hero gig paid for him in general. Spider-Man was operating entirely on a volunteer basis. Tony couldn't exactly knock it. His time in the trenches had _cost_ him money. After S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen, Tony had pumped so much money into the Avengers, and even now, for Peter—

Tony put his sandwich down. This was different, he reminded himself. He wasn't taking part in anything. He was just some guy with a fancy suit he never used who sometimes enjoyed watching someone else dress up in a fancy suit of their own and do their own thing.

"Are you okay, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked.

"Yeah." Tony inhaled slowly. "I'm okay. Not so hungry after all, though. Want any more eggs?"

Peter had a super metabolism to go with his super everything else. He took the eggs. He ate the toast, too. Tony watched the food go in that mouth and very, very carefully didn't think about anything else that could go in there, not even when Peter licked his lips and then stuck his fingers in his mouth one by one to get off the crumbs and butter.

"There's a sink right there," Tony said, because he was an idiot who couldn't appreciate a good thing when he saw it.

"I know," Peter said and then licked broad stripes across his palms.

"And on that note, I am going to take these," Tony collected the plates and utensils, "to the sink upstairs, where I have dish soap."

"And after that?" Peter asked. He actually did go over and quickly soap up his hands.

"And after that, I'm going to bed." Tony thought he might be able to sleep this time. "Where you should also be."

That was definitely mischief in Peter's eyes as he rinsed his hands.

"Your bed. You should be in your bed," Tony clarified unnecessarily. It was past time to sleep. "At your home. Which is not here."

"I don't know, yours sounds fine to me," Peter said. He dried his hands on his t-shirt.

"Good night," Tony said firmly.

"Good night, Mr. Stark." Peter came close. Tony's hands were full of dishes. He had none left to fend Peter off when he leaned in and kissed Tony's cheek, nearly brushing the corner of his mouth. "Thank you for a second dinner."

"You're welcome," Tony said blankly, which was not what he was thinking. He was thinking about how he had told Peter he didn't sleep with interns. He did have that conversation, right? He remembered having that conversation. He didn't think he'd come up with that sort of personal humiliation whole cloth.

"Sweet dreams," Peter said sweetly, and then he was picking up the nanotech casing and walking out the door.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.," Tony said, because he couldn't discount hallucinations at this point. His life was weird. "Did that just happen?"

"If you're referring to your dinner date, then yes. That just happened, boss."

"Right. Okay." In retrospect, it was a pretty wide loophole. You could date someone without sleeping with them. You could sleep with someone without _sleeping with_ them. And you could _sleep with_ someone without sleeping in their bed. Somehow, Tony didn't think Peter would object to any of those. Then, "Is he trying to date me in both his identities?"

"It would appear so," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

"Right. Just checking." Tony took the dishes upstairs. He cleaned them and the pan on autopilot, then set them all in the drying rack. He went to bed. He stared up at the ceiling. "What the fuck."

—

In the morning, there Peter was, bright and early and extremely cheerful.

Tony squinted at him suspiciously, but all Peter said was, "Good morning, Mr. Stark! Are you ready to get to work?"

"Doesn't sound like me," Tony said.

"Well, I'm on the clock," Peter said. He slung his backpack down by his stool. "And my boss is kind of a hard-ass, soooo—"

"A—excuse me, who are you talking about here?"

Peter beamed at him. "Shhh. I can't talk until after work."

Tony's thoughts kept skittering around in circles. It was the same one, really, in three different forms. Tony sat down at his workstation.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man was Tony's personal intern. Three aspects, one person. Two of whom, it appeared, thought it was perfectly acceptable to date Tony, despite all the roadblocks he'd set up for the third. Tony had never bothered to demarcate the different areas of his life—everything bleeding together, friends and coworkers and family all the same damn thing—until he'd been lying bleeding on the ground outside of a bunker in Siberia, wondering which parts of himself he could cut out to survive the rest.

Peter hummed to himself. He was a busy, busy bee, making the sweet honey of progress—or maybe a spider spinning his web. Tony sat there, a hollow man. His own efforts were substandard, pro forma.

Eventually, Peter stood, stretched, and said, "What did you want to get for lunch today?"

"You pick," Tony said. His voice was strangely calm.

"I haven't had pizza in a long time." Peter looked unerringly at one of the camera sensors. Good to know he was aware of them sometimes, at least. Food was apparently a good motivator. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., would you mind ordering a large pepperoni?" Peter glanced over at Tony. "Is pepperoni okay with you?"

"It's entirely up to you."

Peter got an adorable little wrinkle in his brow. "Are you okay?"

"People have been asking me that for a long time," Tony said quietly, "and I've gotta tell you, I don't know." That was a bit heavy for a lunch conversation. Usually, Tony let Peter chatter about his friends and movies he'd seen recently.

"Is there anything I can do?" Peter asked.

"Keep being you." Peter being Peter had done a lot to restore Tony's faith in people outside of Pepper, Rhodey, and the family he'd built or programmed himself, with his own two hands.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter said slowly, "can I take the rest of the day off?"

"What?" Tony wondered if Peter had heard something Tony hadn't and was about to take off, take care of some responsibilities for that second identity. "Yeah, sure. Whenever you need. You know that."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., cancel the pizza."

Instead of leaving, Peter came over and chivvied Tony up, then out of the room. Nonplussed, Tony followed him. They went right instead of left, directly for the elevators. Somehow, Tony didn't think this was because Peter had learned discretion and didn't want anyone seeing him going out through the window.

"Where are we headed, Peter?" Tony asked.

"You live upstairs, right?" Peter said. "You're taking the rest of the day off, too."

Peter was oddly bossy in his Peter Parker guise. He took them to the penthouse and made Tony tea Tony hadn't been aware was in his cupboards until Peter was pulling the box out. He made Tony sit on the couch and drink it. He made PB&J sandwiches and cut them into little triangles.

Tony drank the tea. He ate the sandwich triangles, starting at the corners. He said, when he was feeling on a bit more of an even keel, "I really do like you."

"But—?" Peter asked.

But I'm a mess, Tony thought. But I'm afraid to get that mess all over you, Tony thought. But I think it could be so much more than just like, Tony thought. But I was already half in love with you before we ever met, Tony thought.

"But nothing." Tony had to start somewhere, and he'd already warned Pepper he'd try to sleep with this particular intern. "I like you."

"Usually that's followed up with something else," Peter said.

"I've got nothing but what you see here," Tony said. "The only thing I can think to add is that I lied about sleeping with interns. You're my first intern. I don't actually have a rule yet."

"How about no sleeping with interns unless their name is Peter Parker?" Peter suggested.

"That seems limiting," Tony said.

"That's the point." Peter took the empty plate Tony was holding and set it on the coffee table next to his now empty tea mug. He climbed into Tony's lap.

"Pretty forward there, Parker."

"You like me. I think you'll let me get away with it."

Yeah. Tony would.

Tony remembered to say, before the clothes came off, "You know this doesn't affect the internship, right? It won't—even if you change your mind down the line, Pepper and I dated for years, and she's still my CEO. Whatever we have, however it goes, it won't ever interfere with our working relationship unless you want it to. And just because we're in a relationship doesn't mean you have to stay with S.I. if you don't want to."

Peter looked fond, like Tony was a dumb dog who'd done a cute trick. "Yeah. I know."

"Just making sure."

—

(How Tony had imagined those lips would look wrapped around him was nothing compared to how it felt. Returning the favor was even better.)

—

"If we ever break up," Peter said, head pillowed on Tony's chest, "I'm keeping the suit."

"That's fair," Tony said sleepily. Then, "Wait, what?"

Peter frowned. "You know, right? I mean, you have to know. There are cameras everywhere in the building, and it's not like I was subtle about it."

"Know what?" Tony said innocently, because _this kid_.

"But I—I flirted with you as Spider-Man! You accepted a date with me!"

"You're Spider-Man?" Tony asked, widening his eyes slightly. "Really? _The_ Spider-Man?"

He maybe overplayed his hand a bit. Peter's eyes narrowed. "You're messing with me."

"You went out in the suit on vacation," Tony said flatly. "Do you know how many Japanese Spider-Men there are? None! There are no Japanese Spider-Men. It's like you don't appreciate how much effort has gone into suppressing your identity over the years."

"Just how long have you known?" Peter demanded.

"You've been changing in alleyways since you were fourteen. It's a minor miracle the whole world doesn't know. And by minor miracle, I mean I coded an A.I. to do just one thing, and she still needs F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s help sometimes with all the times you take the mask off in front of cameras. Did you know every smart phone has a camera? Because I was pretty sure your generation grew up with that sort of thing, but you'd never know it considering all the videos your A.I.'s scrubbed from the internet." Maybe that was a bit of a rant, but it had been building for six years. This was seriously ruining the afterglow.

"You built me an A.I.?" Peter asked in the same tone he'd used when he'd asked about getting to keep the casing. Okay, that was cute.

Tony sighed. "Yeah. You even named her."

"How did I name her when I haven't met her?"

"Karen, say hi."

"Hi, Peter! I'm looking forward to finally talking with you off of Instagram."

"You're one of my Instagram followers?" Peter asked. After a second, "Wait, I remember you! You're the one who asked me to guess your name."

"With a 100% chance of getting it right," Karen said cheerfully.

"Are there any other, um, not-quite-secrets or actual secrets or identity issues or other things we should talk about?" Peter asked Tony.

"Well, there is one thing," Tony said.

"Okay." Peter swallowed. "I want to know."

"Are you sure? It's a doozy."

"I'm sure." Peter looked so damn sincere. "Tell me."

Tony did his best to match it, solemn and serious. "If you're sure, then you really ought to know." Peter leaned in. Tony said, "I'm Iron Man."

Peter hit him with a pillow.

—

Peter was back at school when Tony showed up at the Avengers Compound. It had been a while. (It had been years.) Vision came to greet him at the front gates.

"We weren't expecting you," Vision said.

"Next time," and the words weren't ballast, didn't weigh him down, "I'll call ahead. Can I come in?"

"You're always welcome. It's your home, too."

Not anymore, Tony thought, but didn't say. It didn't hurt so much these days. He tapped a nervous drumbeat on his nanotech casing. One step at a time. Tony wasn't bulling straight ahead, but he was getting back up.

He'd get there eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> Content advisories: Canon typical violence, canon events through Civil War, mental health issues (PTSD, depression, one remembered instance of wanting/being ready to give up), an implied fraught relationship with alcohol, the typical age gap, a boss/intern relationship, secret identity issues in which characters are aware of each other's full identities, but what people are aware the other person is aware of varies throughout the story.


End file.
